


Rum and ginger on a chilly winter day

by Herbertholder



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Other, Secret Relationship, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbertholder/pseuds/Herbertholder
Summary: Bloodhound had the watching eyes of a raven, they worked on winter equipment for climbing snowy mountains. Elliott Witt was across the train capsule, he served drinks and made conversation with attractive women.[On the Christmas train and towards the small storage room, two must face their truths]
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Rum and ginger on a chilly winter day

It was cold outside, a wedding white bed of snow hid the depths of Worlds edge. It dropped weightlessly and was invisible through the already covered windows of the Christmas train. Inside there were stations of buffet and a bar, among tables full of rich personalities, Bloodhound sat at a far edge. 

They were invited as a member of the Championship, with many others who would die for such a chance, they wouldn't waste it. Most of the champions were around, with family or a couple, working on projects in the warmth of the vehicle. It shook, swayed like once in the arena. 

Bloodhound had the watching eyes of a raven, they worked on winter equipment for climbing snowy mountains. Elliott Witt was across the train capsule, he served drinks and made conversation with attractive women. Bloodhound was watching his foolish glances, reaching their mask and presuming that he could go unnoticed. They admired his unshattered confidence.

The train stopped at several locations, going in a slow circle. The automated announcer would tell facts and stories about each area, the battles that were won, the ones that were lost. All this place would be was a battlefield, whether for reality games or frontier wars. Bloodhound's fingers were warm against wooden structures and braces, they had shed their jacket and gloves. This place was suffocating to an extent, hot and full of flying cigarette ash. Bloodhound caught up on voices of champions, talking with parents, Bloodhound was alone.

The clank of glass alerted them, and they braced themselves, looking up. 

"Ginger Hot Cocoa, homemade!" A loud and rehearsed statement, the smell of a homely brew could distract from the more unappetising fragrance of artificial Hollyoak. Bloodhound was more distracted by the sight of Elliott, standing over them as though a comfortable friend. Somewhat more than that, for the most, they were acquaintances, bracing warm bodies in a deadly corner. 

"This is, well, perhaps you have mistaken a table."

Sometimes they wondered if it was wrong to hope that these brief meetings would happen often, to hear his voice aimed towards their attention only, see his eyes focused on their figure and sometimes winding down further from their mask. 

"No. nope! This is… uh- for you, Bloodhound. From Mirage, yeah, that's me," and he continued onwards, furthermore, Bloodhound was listening to the sludge-like words that were full of such a favourite personality. Bloodhound looked across from his cherry red face, down to his tightly suited Christmas outfit, lower towards the holiday themed mug full of a deep and clouded brown. Ah, they had always brought this on themselves, so they put a grounding arm on his elbow and he ended his sentence in a smoother, looser manner. 

"Thank you, Elliott," as Elliott nodded and smiled. Laughing and saying that it was nothing, bracing for a leave, Bloodhound overthought their loose usage of his name among other credible things. They thought about whether he had planned any of this out or had done it on a whim like some weak battle plan, and if it was safe to even presume they were on the same page. Bloodhound looked around in search for some other champion with a specialised mix of spices, alas, there was none. This was special.

Bloodhound watched Elliott leave, legs swaying with a bounce in his step. He looked proud of himself.

×

Soft arms touching in the shelter of a luggage cabin. Skin against skin, warmth touching warmth.

This was what Bloodhound's mind lingered on, maybe in a cupboard, hiding from enemies or maybe in a Christmas Train.

"Ah, I'm sorry, kid." His voice always sounded more confident when he was fighting. This was the warmth, burning bodies rolling in grass. The sting of the green in Bloodhound's senses, the sting of Elliott's punch, hollering over them with his might as he plundered them into the ground. Bloodhound was never angry, displeased at the most but even that was not for sure. It was him or them, and their Allfather was the only entity that could decide who won. They were nearly satisfied to die at Elliott's hands instead of another, he played tricks until the end, laughing at decoys.

Bloodhound smiled into their mask, thinking about those events. World's edge was very memorable to them.

Across the wide room of the train, Elliott was back at his job of service. He still managed to look back in uncertainty at times, Bloodhound hadn't touched their drink. 

The drink in question, a mix of alcohol and physical warmth, occupied as a thought a warmer. It smelt deluxe and did wonders to their hands, sometimes getting too close and causing their orange goggles to fog up into a mess of blurry figures. 

Elliott was eventually gone, and he didn't come back.

Bloodhound took it upon themselves to stand, following the traces of artificial fingerprints on the wall. Maybe it was wrong, but they would follow him regardless, doubting that such a thing would make him uncomfortable. Nearly the opposite; those lovestruck eyes of his and that flustered expression always seemed to indicate. 

Elliott turned around when Bloodhound's deep footsteps entered his vicinity.

They shared a short greeting and he replied with his own, a sense of wonder in his voice. Suffocating, in a quiet locker full of preserved foods. No windows, no view of the wonderland outside, only the two of them.

Bloodhound hummed, they dropped their bag of valuables on a stack of wood near a synthetic Christmas tree. 

Elliott moved his red outfit jacket to the floor, freeing a space beside him. They both flirted:

"What a Christmas surprise! I guess I wasn't as bad as I thought," well rehearsed, Bloodhound could sense it in his voice. Maybe later they would be able to taste it against his throat, down the cotton of his undershirt. For now they could only let out a quiet huff, a laugh of sorts between their chilly winter cheeks.

"Elliott-" he grinned at his name. They took a steady step towards the wood:

"A present, damn, you're even wrapped up nicely!  _ Hm. _ that one wasn't so good, well, whatever." Bloodhound laughed louder, a soft and smooth bubble in their chest that rose to a whisper. 

They met with their target, Elliott's arms reaching out for the thick felt of their suit. Bloodhound sat on the far edge of their shared bench, it was short and knees were touching. The music that seemed to always be playing outside in the aisles, of bells and harmonica was gone, only the sound of breaths. 

Bloodhound's hand graced the side of Elliott's cheek, running down in soothing lines.

Elliott rubbed their neck, untying knots of their jacket brace and pulling the leather down their torso and arms. Both in scarce clothing and there was no heating in the shed, even though this train surely had the money. Elliott was experienced at aimless petting, running his sure hands down their back and across their sides, Bloodhound could only say the same after their endless interactions in tight spaces. 

It lasted a while, kisses and hugs, warmth against muscle and bodies intertwined. 

Then it was over, and Bloodhound pulled their mask back down, their jacket back on as Elliott shifted to tie the belts of his boots.

"You know, I'm pretty offended over here!" But it was in a joking manner, Elliott's voice was usually cultured as he flirted, but during such a physical romance he was much quieter. Not anymore, now that it was over, he was loud and assertive once more, sometimes stuttering over longer words as he hurried to get everything open. He doubted himself far too often.

Bloodhound played along, their mask nodding assertively, They smiled at the feeling of warmth in their abdomen.

"Well you didn't even try my Ma's hot cocoa, and I know that you don't like taking that mask of yours off, but still!" 

"Ah, I see--" They rested a hand on Elliott's thigh, rubbing it in an unspoken apology. "-- it is, i am doing our traditional Jol Fast."

"oh."

Elliott finally laughed, holding his nape in a like he usually did when he was wrong about something. He would wrap thick fingers through the back of his hair, Bloodhound didn't mind, thinking it was sweet. 

"That's- I didn't know. But still! I'm making it for you again when you're done with everything,  _ whenever that is."  _

"As you wish,"

"You got the note underneath it though, right?" 

"Note? Nei," Bloodhound was always surprised by his childishness, writing scribbled notes, they could nearly imagine how it looked. 

"Well," he thought about something, blowing a raspberry as he looked around the dim room. "Whatever. You're free tonight, right? Yeah, well, I'm also free, and I was thinking that we could go out somewhere nice,"

He went on, telling Bloodhound about how the Paradise Lounge was shut for Christmas, how they didn't have to go and eat, they could even stay at home and watch a movie. Bloodhound made more physical contact, a hot palm against his own palmer, on his nape. They would agree to any unhinged and obscure plan that he offered, dazed by a Christmas romance. For now, the two parted towards separate cabins, Bloodhound would keep the small and wooden trinket wrapped in a soft oak box until their next meeting. They were going to find that note, then they would continue fixing the already perfect pads of their shield as a distraction from the now winking Elliott in his tight Christmas suit, across the room.

The train stopped one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> After my Halloween fic flopped (and I really liked that prick, thought it was great) I decided to take things to the next level. If this gets 25 kudos, I'll write another chapter. I'll do this each time until 2021.  
> Anyway, yeah. Leave kudos for that date and some deeper digging into this casual romance. 
> 
> Can you guys find the two music references? They're both easy and generic 
> 
> 👍 Thank you for reading!


End file.
